I'm like a child who cries itself to sleep,

but instead of crying, what I do is think.

I think myself insane, analyzing every bit,

until my heart rate quickens and I work up a panicking fit.

Pros and cons, Yesses and nos.

Assumptions without asking, highs and lows. 

I take the thought and flip it over,

twist it,

weigh it,

play with it.

Obsessive compulsive to put it in its place.

You know when it's happening from the expression on my face;

A blank, heavy stare with wide, vacant eyes.

An idea to examine and try on for size.

And when I've done what I can with the puzzles in my head,

I've no choice but to crawl, exhausted, into bed.